


Brief, Sudden, and Wholly Inevitable

by thatgaywizard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Post Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgaywizard/pseuds/thatgaywizard
Summary: A deciding encounter for Harry and Draco.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101
Collections: Drarry





	Brief, Sudden, and Wholly Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaStrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaStrega/gifts).



> This was from a post I made for LaStrega on tumblr ages ago. I just stumbled across it and figured I should log it here.
> 
> https://drarryking.tumblr.com/post/145386416001/drarryking-freddie-ruins-everything-aright#notes 
> 
> <3

When Harry entered the office the last thing he expected to see was this, this laid back blonde creature with his eyes closed in a posture of complete ease and carelessness lounging on the sofa. The recognition was immediate, as was the utter panic and confusion. It felt as if his heart had literally taken a giant leap up into his esophagus, climbed a little higher, and then wedged itself intentionally in his throat and sat there. Harry almost turned right back around, robes swishing, to run out the door he’d come in through, but he hadn’t been quiet about his entrance and turning tail now would just be too obvious and ridiculous and the last thing he wanted right now was to look ridiculous. **  
**

He stared down at the man on the couch and waited. Waited for…what? For him to notice Harry was standing there stiff and mute as a post? Nothing of the sort happened and after a few more seconds ticked by Harry relaxed a little. It appeared, although it could have been completely untrue, that the man, the man that had plagued his life for many years and who was now randomly, magically, spontaneously in his office, was asleep.

Draco Malfoy, arsehole extraordinaire, lounging on his couch. It had been at least two years since he’d even spotted him in a crowd at the Ministry. Why in Merlin’s name was he in Harry’s office? Did he know Harry worked here? Probably not. He could just ask him…why wasn’t he asking him? It was easy, so what if Malfoy had fallen asleep? _Just say something, Harry. Make words. Kick him. Do anything but for god’s sake stop staring at him like you’re a petrified troll._

That sounded easy enough but the problem was that a strange sensation was coming over him as he looked at Draco’s long form, stretched back against the couch, neck exposed and vulnerable with his head tipped back. His lips pink and parted slightly. He was…attractive. Too attractive, more attractive than Harry was comfortable with and Harry wasn’t comfortable with Draco Malfoy even when he wasn’t being attractive. He was always frowning and- and talking, and saying nasty spiteful things- but here he was looking bloody angelic. What a complete tosser. Harry found himself suddenly and inexplicably irritated. He opened his mouth to say something loud and rude but before he could get it out Malfoy cleared his throat and spoke.

“When you’re quite finished gawping at me I have a question for you,” he said without opening his eyes.

“You’re awake,” Harry stated flatly.

Draco did open his eyes then. “Well I wasn’t, but then you came in and decided to stand there and…breath…a bit creepy actually.”

“What do you want?” Harry all but shouted at him. He wondered how the other man could be so calm. Surely coming face to face with Harry again for the first time in years gave him some discomfort or awkwardness. It didn’t appear so at first, but sure enough something flickered across Malfoy’s serene cocky expression a second later. Uncertainty shone in Malfoy’s pale gray eyes as he raised his head and his gaze very subtly flicked over Harry’s entire figure. He looked like he’d forgotten what to say, but only for a second. Harry wondered if there was something wrong with him, if there was something on his robes or on his face or if he was doing something strange, because of the way Malfoy’s attitude changed so quickly when he met Harry’s eyes. It was as if something in Harry’s own expression caught Malfoy off guard.

They both schooled their faces and looked away.

Harry walked across the dark wood floor over to his desk. “Well?” he asked, pretending to organize some papers.

He heard Draco stand up, the soft creak of the leather sofa giving beneath him. He couldn’t help but look over again for some reason, and caught the sight of Malfoy brushing the creases out of his trousers and casually brushing his hair back into place, his fingers trailing softly behind his ear.

Sweet Merlin, had it really been so long? Malfoy felt like a different person. Clearly he wasn’t, but Harry was now very aware of his own attraction to men, something he’d been ignorant of in their youth, and if Malfoy had been a stranger- a tall blonde stranger, with piercing grey eyes, and long legs- Harry would have, well, probably bumbled his way through this entire interaction much the way he was now.

Malfoy was arching his eyebrows at Harry and Harry realized he hadn’t heard a word of what Malfoy had just said. “Er, well…” 

“He wants your answer by five o'clock this evening,” Malfoy continued. “He says the Werewolf Capture Unit has got itself worked into a tizzy. Personally, I don’t see how you can help alleviate the damage but-” and there it came back, that familiar disdain that made Harry recollect things very clearly, “everyone listens to _our savior_ , I suppose.”

“Right. Werewolf Support Services. I hadn’t forgotten,” Harry said, pretending to know what Malfoy was on about. He would ask the head of the department later for details.

“Of course, you would never,” Malfoy said sarcastically.

“Is that it then?” Harry asked, although he wasn’t really sure if he wanted it to be because Malfoy had very casually strolled over to his desk and was stretching out one fine index finger to flick a slow rotating gadget that sat on the edge of the table. It’s shiny mechnical little copper tendrils let out a low and far reaching note like a hum as Malfoy touched it. It was a random bauble but it had belonged to the late Hogwart’s Headmaster which was probably why Malfoy looked at it like it was familiar.

“Didn’t …” Malfoy began but trailed off. Harry supposed he must not have wanted to drag up the subject of Hogwarts or more likely the subject of Dumbledore.

“It was a gift from Professor McGonagall, um, headmistress McGonagall,” he supplied.

Malfoy made a very Malfoy-like face, but fortunately not a particularly rude one. “Can’t imagine what that old witch is up to these days.”

“Her usual. Mostly.”

Malfoy looked over at Harry, Harry looked back, neither one said anything. There was a peculiar unspoken _something_ hanging between them, Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it. That smug attitude Malfoy had carried in with him was gone, he seemed to have forgotten about it much the same way Harry had forgotten to fiddle with his papers and look busy.

Harry was mostly a consultant these days and honestly didn’t have much work to do unless something was going wrong. He couldn’t recall what Malfoy did here. He worked in an entirely different department and was barely a part of the Ministry. They were pushing thirty years old now, so much time had eclipsed. Hadn’t Malfoy been married? He wasn’t wearing a ring. When Harry looked at the other man he could see the years and the war and all of their time at Hogwarts reflected back at him in memories. He suspected with the way Malfoy looked at him silently that he must have felt something similar.

He could sense Malfoy retracting all his social niceties and getting ready to leave. Harry found himself not wanting this moment to go yet, the edges were softened, as if they were underwater, and his heart felt a little unstable. He leaned back against the polished desk, the simple gesture making the entire place seem more welcoming somehow. “Er, did you- how long were you waiting?”

“Ages,” Malfoy said tartly. After a dramatic pause he conceded. “Alright, probably only about ten minutes. I was instructed not to leave until I had found you though so no hardship there. I love getting paid to do nothing,” he said in a tone that may have been sarcastic but probably wasn’t.

Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say to his old schoolmate. He was becoming increasingly nervous and his mind was coming up blank. Malfoy had moved a little closer and he felt himself wanting him even closer than that. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him. This was exactly how he felt when he wanted to seduce someone, or get close to someone who wanted him, but this wasn’t just some random at a pub, this was Malfoy. There was absolutely no way he would ever try to pull Malfoy, even if Malfoy was gay, even if Malfoy was the last bloke alive, absolutely no bloody way ,not in a million years would he give Malfoy the leverage or satisfaction of knowing that he thought he was attractive. Very attractive, apparently, if his inability to stop looking at his trousers and his lips and his stupid fingers was any indication. Even after all this time, Malfoy didn’t deserve his complete forgiveness. He could get over a lot but-

“You’re looking fit, Potter. They must be feeding you well at the Weasley place.”

Harry felt his face flame up in surprise. “Er, thanks.” _What? What was he saying? Thanks?_ “I mean, everyone is always well fed there. Not that I’m there much these days but, you’re looking quite, er, well, yourself.” His own mouth was betraying him. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Malfoy again. He was already making an ass of himself. Malfoy was clearly taking the piss, however mildly. 

Turning around he glanced at his desk one more time and was relieved to remember something business related that he could bring them back to. 

“Ah, before you go, I have something…” he leafed through a few rolls of parchment before settling on one and rolling it up tightly. “Chairman Clagg also wanted this. I have a feeling you’ll probably see her before me.” He held out the parchment to Malfoy who was but a few footsteps away.

Malfoy had his arms crossed and as he uncrossed them to reach out for the paper, he looked up at Harry, his eyes serious and pensive.

And then somehow they got stuck there, the two of them, just like that.

Harry couldn’t look away.

Malfoy took a very slow shuffling step closer, his hand closing over the rolled paper, and Harry didn’t let go. He swallowed. He _heard_ himself swallow in the all too quiet room. He could see Malfoy’s chest rise and fall and they still said nothing. He didn’t think he’d ever experienced Malfoy being silent for such an extended period of time in his life.

Malfoy took another step closer, this time the parchment touched his chest, the paper rubbed against the starched fabric of his white button up. Malfoy wasn’t paying attention to it.

Harry felt his hand tighten on the roll, heard it crinkle, and he knew he was crushing it. He was clearly mad. Malfoy must have thought he was mad, staring like this, but he mustn’t have been because he could see it, the same wild uncertainty in the other man’s eyes, the tiny tremble in his pale soft lips as his stare bored into Harry. They hadn’t been in the room more than ten minutes together, hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words. This ten minutes was the most time they had spent near one another in the past two years, maybe three or four if you didn’t count spotting someone over the head of a crowd as coming into contact.

This was still Malfoy, still too pale, still with those cold eyes, and that distrusting furrow in his brow. A little taller, a little less haunted, maybe. Harry’s still didn’t like him. He would never and this- whatever was happening- probably needed to stop. Now. If he let this happen, right here, right now, he would never respect himself again. His friends would never respect him. This was just pure lust taking over or some sort of spell, some sort of bewitchment. He could go find someone else, someone who wasn’t a Malfoy, someone who hadn’t made his life hell. Someone less…

…vulnerable. That last icy veil dropped and Malfoy looked completely vulnerable. Vulnerable, and perhaps a little desperate, and breathing in short quick breaths as if someone with death threats had a wand pointed straight at his face.

The paper was crushed in Harry’s grip as he pulled it away from Malfoy and let it drop to the floor. The gesture brought Malfoy closer as his hand released it as well.

Harry closed the remaining space between them.

A weak mutter of “ _Potter_..” fled Malfoy’s mouth before their lips touched and he made the most unbearable and arousing sound as if he were about to faint, his eyes already rolling back under his eyelids. Harry’s arm wrapped around his waist and Malfoy clutched at the front of Harry’s robes, his fingers digging into Harry’s muscles and skin through the fabric. He became boneless in Harry’s grip.

There simply had never been a kiss like this one before in his life. There had never been anything remotely like this. He felt weak, blind, and powerful, and he wanted to kiss Malfoy harder but he couldn’t figure out how because the light way their lips found each other was too much already. He traced Malfoy’s mouth with his own. Tasting him. Experiencing the texture of his skin. His lips strayed from Malfoy’s mouth, slowly. He grabbed the man’s chin and held his face there as he kissed the corner of his mouth and his jaw, and then farther, and farther, to his neck, which had looked so tempting early when he’d been on the couch. Malfoy whimpered and shuddered against Harry, his nails digging into him as Harry opened his mouth against his skin.

“No…no this isn’t happening,“ Malfoy struggled out. “This is …some sort of spell.”

Harry thought he must have been right but it was so hard to care about that. He brought his lips back around to Malfoy’s and they looked at each other through half lidded eyes, nose to nose, lips just barely touching, the taste of Malfoy’s breath warm against his mouth.

God, what if it was a spell? Harry could at least understand that, after all, the draw to Malfoy was just so unbearably strong.

Then again, what if it wasn’t? That was an even crazier notion. He kissed Malfoy again- just to be sure, this time deeper. Malfoy was pushing him away while leaning into the kiss at the same time. Harry released him, drawing on all of his will power to pull away.

Malfoy reeled back in a daze.

“Jesus. Merlin. What…oh my god what just happened?” Harry let out this string of disbelief breathlessly. He tried to regain himself but Malfoy was still standing there looking flushed and wanting and so he reached for him again but Malfoy staggered back, looking stunned. His lustful heavy gaze having been suddenly replaced with eyes as big as an owl’s. Throwing his hand over his mouth he stumbled away and made for the door leaving Harry very abruptly alone and very flabbergasted.

Harry braced himself against the table, re-living the sensation of Malfoy’s body against his over and over in his head. Everything about it was so wrong, and yet, nothing had ever felt so right in his life.

Draco left work immediately. There was no way he would be getting anything done now and he couldn’t help feeling like what had transpired with Potter was completely written all over his face for everyone to see. But who would ever suspect? No one would believe that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were _fraternizing_ on the job, never, not in a million years. He felt numb and also obscenely naked to the world. If he stood still long enough to think about how he felt he wasn’t sure what would happen. He had wanted Potter once so badly it kept him awake at night, but that was a long time ago and he’d denied it as hard as he could until he almost believed that the longing was dead and he buried it deep, deep inside.

Now this.

It was probably the direct result of an errant love spell someone had directed Potter’s way. Potter attracted that sort of rabid obsession. Draco cringed to think he hadn’t been any better once.

In any case, it was the most likely answer and he decided to leave it at that and try as hard as he’d ever tried in his life to forget something. This particular something wasn’t going to be an easy one considering it was Harry Potter… kissing him, pressing their bodies together, gazing into his eyes as if he really did find Draco fascinating.

So Draco spent the rest of the evening pacing, forgetting his tea, destroying every potion he attempted to brew (because that took a great deal of concentration) and inevitably sitting alone with his head in his hands, telling himself that he was too old to cry or have unproductive emotions about something so inconsequential.

Just before dusk there came a familiar taping at the window. He let the large brown owl inside and took the letter it carried. The owl sat stoically on the windowsill as Draco read the very simple note. The letter felt heavy in his uncertain fingers although it was practically weightless.

_The experts tell me I’m not under any sort of spell so that just leaves me with one other question:_

_Can I see you later?_

_Harry P._


End file.
